Margaret took up a pen and scrawled with trembling hand,
'Margaret Hale is not the girl to say him nay.' In her weak state
she could not think of any other words, and yet she was vexed to
use these. But she was so much fatigued even by this slight
exertion, that if she could have thought of another form of
acceptance, she could not have sate up to write a syllable of it.
She was obliged to lie down again, and try not to think.
'My dearest child! Has that letter vexed or troubled you?'
'No!' said Margaret feebly. 'I shall be better when to-morrow is
over.' 'I feel sure, darling, you won't be better till I get you out of
this horrid air. How you can have borne it this two years I can't
imagine.' 'Where could I go to? I could not leave papa and mamma.'
'Well! don't distress yourself, my dear. I dare say it was all
for the best, only I had no conception of how you were living.
Our butler's wife lives in a better house than this.'
'It is sometimes very pretty--in summer; you can't judge by what
it is now. I have been very happy here,' and Margaret closed her
eyes by way of stopping the conversation.
The house teemed with comfort now, compared to what it had done.
The evenings were chilly, and by Mrs. Shaw's directions fires
were lighted in every bedroom. She petted Margaret in every
possible way, and bought every delicacy, or soft luxury in which
she herself would have burrowed and sought comfort. But Margaret
was indifferent to all these things; or, if they forced
themselves upon her attention, it was simply as causes for
gratitude to her aunt, who was putting herself so much out of her
way to think of her. She was restless, though so weak. All the
day long, she kept herself from thinking of the ceremony which
was going on at Oxford, by wandering from room to room, and
languidly setting aside such articles as she wished to retain.
Dixon followed her by Mrs. Shaw's desire, ostensibly to receive
instructions, but with a private injunction to soothe her into
repose as soon as might be.
'These books, Dixon, I will keep. All the rest will you send to
Mr. Bell? They are of a kind that he will value for themselves,
as well as for papa's sake. This----I should like you to take
this to Mr. Thornton, after I am gone. Stay; I will write a note
with it.' And she sate down hastily, as if afraid of thinking,
and wrote: 'DEAR SIR,--The accompanying book I am sure will be valued by you
for the sake of my father, to whom it belonged.